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Dear Mom [Weeks 4&5]

Hey mom,

I’m glad to think about you off having fun with your friends this weekend because I entirely missed writing to you last weekend. To make myself feel better I remind myself that I did get to spend good time with you on Saturday night. I’m sorry again for being late to get you at the airport. I was so panicked when I realized that I was at the wrong terminal.

All weekend long I kept telling myself I would get to it later. And, then I told myself the same exact thing all week as well. Boy, has my life been hectic. It has always been hectic, but the past several weeks have been especially hectic. I hope it makes you feel better to know my lack of writing wasn’t because anything is actually more important than you, but because all of my free time went to my kids. I know you would not want me neglect them. Although I’m pretty sure I am doing a little of that, too. I just can’t keep up. I did lesson plans, homework, or cleaned house all day yesterday. My only breaks were when I went to coach volleyball and when we broke from routine to feed the missionaries dinner. We had a wedding reception we wanted to go to and we didn’t even make it. Bummer.

I am sending you a story I wrote awhile back. I just published it on my blog, and I know you will love it. I hope it makes up for my missed letter-writing week.

Anyhow, I don’t want this letter to turn in to my complaining. I truly am grateful to have my job, to be able to go to college, and to have a busy family. We took Abigail to her first session of therapy last week. After the therapist talked to her, he called me back in. He said, I want you to hear your daughter’s 5-year-plan. Abigail explained that she planned to, “graduate from high-school, go on a mission, go to college, and get married.” The therapist said that she was a remarkable seventeen year old with a good head on her shoulders and that LG and I should lighten up and let her figure out her own relationship stuff. That was not what I was expecting. I started to cry because I’ve been so worried that we’ve totally let her down in our parenting. I needed that validation so much. I didn’t even know that I needed it.

I’m sorry that we didn’t give you parenting validation enough when you were in the thick of things, mom. I hope you know how much your kids appreciate all that you have done for us. You are one of the most remarkable mothers. I’m so lucky to have you. I can’t even pinpoint everything that makes you so great, but I know one part of you that I try to emulate is selflessness. I think a lot of moms today get really caught up in meeting their own needs first and that can be really detrimental to their kids. I think some moms only take care of their kids needs and not their own. If I want to be remarkable, I think I have to find a balance between the two. But, I remind myself every day that I am in the middle of the war-zone. Our family is in its neediest stage right now. Some days I just have to hunker down and pray to make it out alive. How many years you did the exact same! Thanks for showing me that it is possible to get to the end.

I’ve thought about dad so much. LG brought me a surprise of Almond Roca home from his Costco trip yesterday. It was all I could do not to burst out in tears. It’s my favorite candy because it was dad’s favorite candy. Of course LG didn’t know that. He only knew it was my favorite void of the connection to dad. I felt like it was a little message from the universe that I will always have dad with me. Speaking of which, I am going to get some of that candy out of my closet (my connection to you – hiding stuff in my closet) to get me through my homework marathon today. Thanks for giving me a break from a deep-dive into ontology. I hate thinking about “what is real” and “what is not real.” It’s really hard to daily wrestle with intellectuals who want to devalue spirituality. I just read something that said it’s better to ask, “Is God real?” than “Does god exist.” It gave me a little encouragement in stating that God is very real to me.

How many times I’ve laughed this week thinking about you handing that boy working at Panda Express $10 and Abigail’s phone number. How many more times I will laugh. It will go down as one of my best memories ever. You are hilarious, mom. I think it is the cutest thing that you are always looking out for your kids and grandkids, even if you are totally crazy at times. I will also always remember how much you were impressed by that kid because he was working so hard like your Ricky. Hard work is such a big value in our family. I guess dad is looking down on me proud because I’m not getting much downtime lately. Just like his whole life. I have to convince myself to rest and relax more. I’m sure there is a part of dad regretting having gone too soon because he worked himself to death. I’m sure he has so much pride in all that he accomplished, but he is looking down on you wondering why he is gone and you are still here when you both worked equally hard.

I have to go. I have piles of homework. This letter sucks this week. I can feel the raw emotion of losing dad already weakening. I don’t like it. I want to sit and cry all day every day as a way of keeping his memory alive. However, I’m sure he’d have me move forward like I am instead of wallow in sorrow.

I love you mom. I hope I will l be less distracted by philosophy and literary theory next week. Have a wonderful week. Because who cares “what is.” You are what is. Dad is what is. I am what is. LG and our kids are what is. Being a family forever is what is. No one will convince me otherwise. I even said so in my class last Monday. I made a comment about the story “Return of a Private.” I basically argued the the American classic realist story was actually a version of the spiritual journey we might take straight back to our families after we die. That doesn’t go over well in academia. After I made the comment, I said, “Look, I know this view doesn’t match with realism, but my dad just died, and I need to believe this right now, so please don’t refute it.” My professor was empathetic and quickly responded before anyone else could, “I’m not going to argue with you.” It was a moment of true compassion. Someday I will thank him.

And even though there are a lot of intellectuals out there that believe that when we die we just die, I know my spirit will fly straight to each and every one of my family members, just like dad did for me. Oh, how I’ll always be grateful that Olive knew “what really was” in that moment. Her bark and perfectly behaved sit will always remind me of my dad’s love for me, and his remarkable ability with people and animals. I can’t get that dog to sit for the life of me.